The Demigod Encounter
by bluewindranger
Summary: Re-write of Feuding Worlds. Demigods and wizards aren't a very good mix. (Especially if Greeks and Romans mix.) There are fights. There's suspicion. There's Quidditch matches...yeah, maybe not. And if they arrived during the time of the Triwizard Tournament—well, maybe the Quintwizard Tournament—things are bound to turn awkward. DISCONTINUED AS OF 4/28/13.
1. Magical Sticks

**Author's Note:** Here it is. There you go.

If you're reading this, you probably know me as RomanGreekDemi...that is, if you read the last chapter of Feuding Worlds. You must keep in mind that it was one of my best friends that found out abut this account and, therefore, persuaded me to re-post this.

You can thank her, but...I'll just go cry in a corner at the failed attempt at remaining anon. XD

The first few chapters will remain, more or less, the similar to the first few chapters of **Feuding** **Worlds**, but the plot will stray from that. I felt that FW's plot was so...dicey and chopped-up. It had no clear picture of where it was going, probably because I had no plan for it. (Yes, I admitted it.) One of my chapter stories' many faults, but one I am trying to improve on.

I will actually try to finish this story this time. Hopefully, it will work...considering I have a really huge rewrite of NS I'm planning out right now, this is not top priority at the moment. I hope that you enjoy this as much as you did for **Feuding Worlds**. Love you all.

* * *

**Chapter One  
**_Thalia_**  
**

When you get turned into a tree when you're twelve years old, you'll never look at the definition of "normal" the same way ever again. Even so, I don't know exactly what Chiron was up to when he summoned the cabin leaders to go to England.

Yes. I said, _England_. I mean, what's so special about the United Kingdom when you have the whole of North America as a playground? I should have known that something was up when the centaur piled us into JFK Airport, giving each of us tickets to London.

"You'll know what to do when you get there," Chiron had told us.

Well, now, here we were, cramped into four rows with tiny seats, and I had the bad luck to sit next to Perseus "Percy" Jackson, hero of Olympus for two times in a row, son of Poseidon, Seaweed Brain, blah, blah, blah. Oh, and did I mention that he was hyperventilating and holding onto my arm as if it were a lifeline? Needless to say, I did not appreciate it one bit. I myself was feeling green from my acrophobia. The tiny blocks of blue sea and green ground that were seen outside our puny window were not helping one bit.

"Percy," I said through gritted teeth, "do all of us a favor and hang on to Nico instead, will you?"

"No!" Nico moaned, his face buried in his hands. "Don't blast me, Uncle Zeus, please! I swear—"

Percy glanced out of the window and shuddered. "Z-Zeus is so going to kill m-me after this."

Annabeth's head popped into view from the row in front of us. "Gods, Percy, have you ever considered the fact that if Lord Zeus blasted you, he would be condemning eleven other demigods as well, one of whom is his daughter?" She smiled sheepishly at my expression. "Sorry about that last part.

I grumbled and waved her apology aside with my free hand. "Forget it. Just remember that on the return trip, I am _not_ sitting with Percy or Nico. You are."

"Deal," Annabeth agreed. "Better then the two I'm sitting next to, anyways."

She rolled her eyes as Travis and Connor Stoll both started laughing hysterically. It sounded like they had raided Chiron's store of milk chocolate.

By the time that we had gotten to London Heathrow Airport seven hours and forty minutes later, I was exhausted, snapping at anyone who attempted to talk to me, and completely fed up with Percy mumbling and hanging on to my arm. (Because, really, didn't he had a girlfriend for the huggy-bear stuff?) I was seriously about to break something, preferably Percy's neck, if he didn't let go within five seconds. He was acting like a non-blood-sucking leech.

Annabeth, who probably sensed I was about to blow, sighed and pulled Percy off of me ("NOOOOOOOO!"), and I sighed in relief.

I rubbed my numb arm and went into the airport terminal, utterly peeved.

"Any of you know why in Hades we're in England?" Nico asked, recovering quicker from his adventure on the airplane than a certain son of Poseidon did.

"Well, if any of us had known, don't you think we would have shared it?" Katie Gardner from Demeter asked irritably as she swatted at Travis.

"Because Chiron told us to come here," Annabeth pointed out logically.

Nico blinked, shrugged, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black aviator's jacket. "Whatever. Chiron told us that we would know what to do when we got to London. I don't know what to do. Does anybody else know what to do? I don't know."

"Nico," Annabeth suspiciously asked as she untangled Percy from her arm. "Did Dionysus drive you temporarily drunk with wine?"

"Uh...no?"

Annabeth decided to go with that. It was probably for the better good, anyways.

"Yeah, okay, so Chiron told us to go here...what do we do when we're here?" I complained. "We're stuck in the middle of London's airport with no idea what to do."

"Why don't we go shopping?" Drew, the head counselor from Aphrodite said. Her suggestion was immediately shouted down by ten other protesting counselors.

Percy cut in. "Guys! Let's just get out of here and then, we'll discuss what to do. Deal?"

There was a general murmur of assent as everybody headed towards the nearest exit.

"So," I called as soon as we all stepped foot outside. "Why don't we just—"

"I have a better idea," Percy said, cutting into my remark. I rolled my eyes and muttered, "You didn't even hear what I was about to say."

"Why don't we follow them?" He pointed to a person in a green cloak that appeared to be waiting for us. He was looking at our group, anyways.

Our little assembly shuffled towards the man, who greeted us warmly.

"You are from...Camp Half-Blood, I assume?" the man asked brightly, adjusting a pointy black hat on his head.

"Yes," Percy said. "And you are...?"

"Very good, very good!" the man cried. He shook Percy's hand so vigorously that I thought the son of Poseidon's hand was going to be detached any second now. "I am Vincent Hoggins, and I am from the Ministry of Magic!"

"The Ministry of what?" I asked, confused. "Magic? Is that—"

"Yes, yes, yes!" the man said. He seemed to have a habit of repeating certain words. "We are very pleased, very pleased to have you here! Everything shall be explained, be explained when we get you, get you to Hogwarts!"

I heard Travis and Connor stifle a laugh as they heard the name "Hogwarts". I wasn't too far from laughing myself, actually. If you took the name literally, it would mean that we were going to a place that's a hog with warts. Not somewhere I would necessarily want to be...maybe for a billion dollars.

"Follow me, follow me!" Vincent Hoggins set out on a heated walk, his cloak billowing out behind him.

"Remind me again, why did I take leave from the Hunters for this?" I muttered to Annabeth, who had caught up to me.

"Because Artemis made you," Annabeth patiently answered. Considering that this was about the billionth time I asked her that question, she was holding herself together remarkably well.

"Right," I mumbled as I brushed past a rather large man that was holding a bouquet of flowers.

We stopped in front of this broken old shop on "Charing Cross Road". Everybody else seemed to be passing it without knowing that it was there.

"Come on in!" Hoggins cried, waving us unconvinced demigods into the shop. "Welcome, welcome to the Leaky Cauldron!"

We passed an old man wiping the counter and a bunch of strange creatures that could have passed off for a monster's first cousin. One of them glanced up at us and darkly muttered something under his breath.

Hoggins led us through the "Leaky Cauldron" and stopped in front of a brick wall. He took out a long thin stick from his pocket and tapped some bricks in a counter-clockwise motion. The wall shivered, and spiraled out into a view that could rival Olympus. Well, not really, but you get my point.

"That," Connor whispered, "is amazing. Think of—"

I gave him an exasperated look. "Connor...do you really want your eyebrows to be fried off?"

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Diagon Alley! You are each required to get spellbooks, which have been pre-ordered for you, but you each must get a wand, get a wand from Ollivander's, Ollivander's! Your money, money has also been retrieved from your vault, your vault at Gringotts, but some of you must get it, get it!"

"A wand?" Percy quizzically asked, with Nico on his heels. "Money? SWEET! I'M GONNA BE RICH!"

"Yes, yes, a wand!" Hoggins said. "I will see you, see you within the hour!"

He scampered back to the Leaky Cauldron, leaving eleven dumbstruck demigods in his wake.

"Why don't we split up?" Annabeth suggested. "Half of us can go to this Ollivander's place, and half of us can get the money. Then, the other half can get their wands, and the first half can just communicate. Fair and done?"

"I don't get it," I muttered, but Annabeth had already separated us into two groups without waiting for an answer. She herded all of her group to Gringotts, leaving me, Percy, and Nico to direct the other demigods. She should have never put three Big Three kids in a group, because there will be trouble.

...Perhaps she wasn't thinking clearly from poorly concealed excitement?

Yeah, no.

"Well..." Percy started, pointing to a dark shop. "There's Ollivander's. Let's go get our magical sticks."

* * *

"Maple, eleven and a half inches, unicorn hair, flexible."

I was practically falling asleep standing up as I waited for results. I had literally tried every single wand in the shop, to no avail. The sticks just didn't cooperate with second group had long since come to get their wands, leaving us some money, leaving me with Kelp Face and Death Breath.

Percy waved another wand for what must have been the trillionth time, to no success. Instead, it bounced up, hit him square on the nose, and clattered on to the floor. Nico stifled a laugh.

Ollivander, the wand maker closely peered at Percy. He went to the back of his shop, carefully avoiding the mountainous pile of tried-out wands, and came back with three, sleek black cases.

My head snapped up from where I had been dozing when he opened the small boxes.

"Here," he offered Nico the first case in a wheezy, dry voice. "Ebony, twelve and three quarter inches, dragon heartstring, rigid and unyielding."

Nico tentatively took the wand and yelped when a bunch of black and bronze-colored sparks shot out of the end of the wand.

"Interesting," Ollivander mumbled, plucking the wand from Nico's shaking fingers and putting it gently back into its case. "That will be ten Galleons, five Sickles, and four Knuts."

Nico counted out the coins, fumbling with them as he did so, and handed it to Ollivander. He rushed out of the shop with a hurried "Thanks!"

Percy acquired the next wand: "Redwood, eleven and a half inches, unicorn hair, bendy. Good for charmwork."

He left in the same manner as Nico.

Ollivander offered me the last case, saying, "Pine, twelve inches, phoenix feather, moderately rigid. Go on, give it a try!"

I almost snorted at the irony as I heard the wood was "pine". And apparently, this wand liked me—it sent firecrackers whizzing around the shop.

Ollivander turned to me, his eyes gleaming. "You know," he began in that wheezy voice, "the other boy who came here took the twin of that wand, but the wood was oak. He did have the same eyes as you. The girl who acquired the first boy's twin wand...they had similar characteristics."

I gulped and handed the money over, gingerly taking the wand. I thanked him and slowly walked out of the wand shop, wondering who in Hades who was the boy Ollivander was talking about.

In all my short life, I had never met someone with the same color eyes as me.

Except for one.

And he was supposed to be dead.


	2. Airline Pretzels

**Author's Note:** Thank you to **Inspiration Lives On**, **theHuntress101**, **WingedGoddesOfVictory**, , **SummerSpirit18**, **GRX3m0m**, and _tim_ (anon) for reviewing. And to all of you who faved and followed, thank you! :)

"X" marks the Romans. No plot holes in this; the witch's food cart just didn't come by, which is why they're hungry. So don't review and complain about them being hungry when there's a food cart being wheeled around the place. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_Jason_

Staring out the window while the only things to see are meadows are blurring past in a frenzy of green is an excellent way to put you to sleep.

Stifling a yawn, I turned away from the window for what must have been the hundredth time and complained to the black-haired girl sitting next to me, "What in Pluto are we going to do?"

Reyna turned to me and gave me an exasperated look. "We wait. Shouldn't that be a bit obvious by now?"

"I don't like waiting," Dakota thickly complained, pacing around the floor of our train compartment on the "Hogwarts Express" while waving around a canteen full of red Kool-Aid. After taking another big gulp, he giddily said, "I mean, really! We've been on this train for over four hours. Isn't it time that we arrived at this 'Hogwarts' place? I need more Kool-Aid." He frowned as he shook his canteen, and no sloshing sound came from within it.

"Stop yammering," Reyna said in a resigned tone of voice as she took my post in staring out the window. "It won't get us anywhere."

"I wish that we were on a plane," I complained, "which is way faster then this train."

"_Junk_ of a train," Bobby corrected. "And of course a plane is faster than this train. _Anything's_ faster than this train."

Dakota shrugged ruefully and slumped in his seat, blankly gazing at a seat cushion. "And then, we could have airplane pretzels."

Reyna and Bobby looked at the son of Bacchus in confusion, and the latter teen shook his head wearily. "Airline pretzels do sound good at the moment."

My stomach growled, and I sat up straighter. "Can we please stop talking about food? It's making me really hungry."

"That's the worst idea I've ever heard from you," Bobby commented. "And no offense, Jason, but sometimes, your ideas are plain out terrible."

"What's wrong with not talking about food?" I complained.

The three others very politely ignored me and resumed talking about pretzels.

Glaring out the compartment door, I glumly watched a boy with black hair and brown eyes—I thought that I recognized him from somewhere, but I couldn't pin it down—yank open another door and prod a seemingly-protesting girl with black hair. Scooting over to the door, I curiously watched as the girl slapped the guy's hand in annoyance and said something that made me blanch: "What in Hades do you want from me?"

"Reyna," I nervously said, dragging her over to the door and letting her peer out of the window. "Who's Hades?"

Reyna slapped me to keep me quiet and leaned towards the door to listen. Behind me, I felt Dakota and Bobby move to see what was happening.

"Percy wants to see you," the guy was saying. The girl, clearly annoyed, picked at her shirtsleeve.

"Well, couldn't Kelp Face move his lazy ass for a couple of feet to the room next to his instead of sending you over to tell me he wanted to see me?" the girl aciduously asked.

"He was IM-ing Chiron," the boy answered with a hint of impatience in his voice.

I reeled back from the door and collapsed in my seat as their footsteps faded from listening range.

"Hades? That's Pluto, right?" I asked Reyna.

Reyna rolled her eyes. "Quite obviously."

"Then why were the people using the Greek name? Wait, scratch that, why were they even _using_ the word 'Hades' in the first place?" Bobby asked, his black hair reflecting the sunlight that was streaming in.

"Yeah," Dakota burped. "Why not the Roman names?"

"Well...there could be a number of reasons," I reasoned. "They could be Greek mythology addicts, and I noticed that mortals are more often familiar with Greek terms then Roman ones."

Reyna crossed her arms and muttered darkly under her breath.

"What?" I prompted.

"But are they even mortals?" Reyna asked quietly.

"Don't be such a shadow of yourself," Bobby brightly said. "Be a bright ray of sunshine!"

Reyna glared at him.

"Okay, okay!" Bobby yelped, putting his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, Reyna!"

"Reyna simply looked away. "Anyways, I want to check those people out. They're definitely not mortals, Jason."

"Then, what are they?" Bobby asked. "_Empousai?_"

I rolled my eyes. "Dakota, boys can't be she-demons, and you know that. Which is why they have a 'she' prefix, not a 'he'."

"...Well, what about the girl?" Bobby asked. "She did have an air of—"

"Bobby," Reyna said tiredly, "you were looking at her through a _window_. Besides, if she was a monster, wouldn't she have attacked you by now?"

"You jinxed it!" Dakota laughed. "Now, Bobby's going to be attacked within an hour!" he added sarcastically.

Oh, the irony of his statement. If only we knew that before they actually did come barging in.

There was a loud crash outside as a guy with black hair and green eyes tripped in, closely followed by a girl with blond hair and gray eyes.

"Percy," the blonde admonished in front of us, "the next time you charge in like that, don't trip over a backpack."

"He wasn't ever known for making smooth moves," the guy who we had seen before chuckled. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Reyna lean forwards slightly, suspiciously regarding his face.

Percy's cheeks colored.

"I told you they weren't mortals," Reyna muttered after a period of awkward silence, still glaring daggers at the boy. She looked slightly uncomfortable as well, sneaking glances at Percy and the blond.

I stood up. "Exactly why did you come in here without knocking?"

"He's clumsy," the boy with brown eyes said happily, pointing at Percy, very noticeably looking anywhere but Reyna. "Didn't you notice that?"

"You say that as if it's a good thing," Dakota commented half-heartedly, shaking his canteen.

Percy scowled at him. "The things I do for you, and you never repay it."

The boy shrugged. "Whatever..."

"Anyways," Percy said, turning to us. "Who are you? You must be real important if a talking wolf told us to see you."

"You make that sound as if it's normal," the blonde whispered to Percy.

"Who, Lupa?" Bobby absently asked. "She's the director of Camp Jupiter."

Reyna threw her hands up in exasperation. "Oh, yes, just give our position away in a sentence, will you?"

I shifted in my seat. "Talking wolf? What would Lupa want with you?"

"Who's 'Lupa'?" Percy asked, confused.

"The talking wolf," the blonde muttered.

"Oh..." Percy self-consciously rubbed his head. "Sorry."

I stood up. "Well, if Lupa wanted to talk to you, then you all must be demigods, right?"

"Uh huh," the blonde nodded. "I'm Annabeth."

"Jason. Son of Jupiter." I extended a hand for her to shake, but she froze.

Annabeth's mouth dropped open as she stared at me. "Do you mean Zeus? Jupiter's the Roman counterpart."

"No, Zeus is the Greek counterpart," I replied. "We normally use the Roman terms. The Greek gods are dead. I mean, welcome to the real world..."

"Greek gods? Dead?" the boy behind the blonde asked, confused. "That's not right. I just saw my father the other day!"

"Hold it," Percy said, looking at me. "How in Poseidon's name can you be a son of Zeus?"

"Why can't I be?" I asked, starting to get really annoyed with him. "So, I'm not supposed to be alive. So what?"

Percy didn't seem to have an answer to that.

"Never mind," I muttered. "The point is, I'm a son of Jupiter, or Zeus, whatever you want to call him."

Percy offered a hand. "Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."

"You're not supposed to be alive, either, so what are you to question Jason?" Bobby rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, neither am I!" the other boy cheerfully said. "We have a nice trio of forbidden demigods, don't we?"

Reyna sighed and quickly muttered, "Reyna, daughter of Bellona. Don't even try asking who that is." She straightened, coldly glaring at the black-haired guy with brown eyes. "Don't I know you?"

"Um..." the boy intelligently answered. "...Maybe?"

Annabeth sharply glanced at him. "Nico?"

"Nico?" Bobby and I asked at the same time. I snapped my fingers. "That's why you look so familiar!"

That's when I realized that the other demigods knew him as well.

"Nico!" Annabeth yelled at the same time as Reyna rolled her eyes.

"I plead the fifth," the ambassador of Pluto squeaked.

"We're neither in a courtroom nor in America," Annabeth snapped, pointing stiffly at him. "Explain. Now."

"Oh, and you two," Reyna icily said, glaring daggers at Percy and Annabeth. The son of Poseidon backed away. "Whoa; what did I do?"

"You turned the pirates back from guinea pigs," Reyna stubbornly answered.

"...Come again?"

"Wait a moment," Annabeth slowly said. "You were that...that little girl on Circe's island..."

"Will someone tell me what's going on here?" I cried out in exasperation.

And as if things couldn't get any worse, the door creaked open again.

"Percy?" the girl asked. "What are you doing?"

My brain must have registered something familiar on her facial features before my eyes comprehended so, because my said brain sent an impulse to my lower jaw to tell it to drop open.

And that's when it clicked.

"You were supposed to be dead."


	3. Disco Christmas in Hamster Land

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the extremely late update. Stupid fever/flu/whatever-the-hell-this-sickness-is.

I don't normally do this, but here are some answers/replies to reviews.

**LegendaryArimaspi: **I really am not quite sure whether or not to include KC. It got very confusing, and I don't want _The Demigod Encounter_ to end up like _Feuding Worlds_: stranded in the middle of nowhere with no direction. At this point, I'm leaning more towards not including them.

**G.F.T.W.: **_U__m,_ what do you mean by messy? The format? They way it's written? How they met?

Guys, feel free to leave CC or questions. I'll happily take good advice and answer your questions. Unlike _Feuding Worlds_, I'm actually trying to make this story readable. And since I'm not exactly punching out a chapter a day like I did in the early days of the afore story mentioned...well, just bear with me, and I'll take the time to review and revise.

Next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**_Jason_

There was a period of awkward silence after the "you were supposed to be dead" part.

"If that was irony," Percy broke in nervously, laughing a little, "that came out seriously skewed."

I shook my head in a weak protest of denial, still staring at my sister who was _supposed_ to have been long since digested in a wolf's tummy by this point, and quite possibly pooped out. (Frankly, and to be fair, she was staring at me like I was taboo as well.) "I—"

"Jason?" Reyna was staring at me now, her glare penetrating through my being, until every outer part was stripped away and my soul lay bare in front of her. "Will you please explain this to me?" She crossed her arms, and I withered under her gaze, absolutely glad that Aurum and Argentum were not in the room with us.

I copied her position defensively. "Well, she _was!_"

"Jason," Percy loudly whispered, throwing a furtive glance at Thalia, who looked like an un-stonified statue of Medusa, "I don't think that you're really helping. You know?"

"J-Jason...?" the afore-mentioned girl stammered. "I thought that you were..." Her voice trailed off, and she rubbed her eyes and blinked hard, not sure whether or not I was a real entity or a spirit.

"Thalia," Percy turned to her, "I don't think that you're really helping either."

Thalia stomped on his foot, to which Percy barely flinched at, but my sister cursed, rubbing her foot. "Stupid invulnerability..."

"Hey," Dakota burped loudly, "hey! Who are you? Why is Jason staring at you while drooling?"

"I am _not!_" I indignantly snapped. "Why would I be drooling, for Jupiter's sake?"

Nico whispered something in Annabeth's ear, who blanched and swatted him across the arm. "NICO!"

"What?" the ambassador of Pluto whined. "Can I not voice my feelings to even you?"

Annabeth threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Nico, you are a dirty...a dirty..."

"Specimen," Bobby offered.

"That doesn't make sense, but yes, a dirty specimen," Annabeth proclaimed, causing Nico to pout.

"Why? What'd he say?" Percy eagerly asked.

Annabeth paused. "You don't want to know."

Thalia suddenly swatted him as well, and Nico danced back. "Hey! What did I do to you?"

"You were thinking it!" she accused, huffing and turning around to stalk out of the compartment, with an angry mutter of something that suspiciously sounded like "Boys".

"What does she have against the male gender?" Dakota frowned.

"Thinking about what?" Nico whined, to which Annabeth responded by dragging him out of the car right after Thalia. Even as the door closed, I could hear him shout, "_What?_"

"Hey! Hey, guys!" Percy shouted. "Why do you have to leave me with the wolf-worshipping dudes? GUYS!" He made to run out, but Bobby grabbed him increduously. "_Wolf-worshipping dudes?_ Seriously?"

"Sorry," Percy sheepishly said, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"My friend, the horse," Bobby dramatically said.

Cue awkward silence as everybody in the compartment stared at him.

"See, your dad's Neptune, right?" Bobby smiled. "And Neptune equals horses! So you're a horse!"

Dakota grinned sillily. "Does that mean I can ride him or something?"

"No!" Percy protested, horrified.

Reyna cut in. "All right, what I want to know is how in Pluto you managed to turn the pirates back to pirates when they were still guinea pigs."

I stared at her. "Huh?"

Percy echoed me one second later. "Huh?"

Reyna looked frustrated. "Blackbeard? Little cute furry rodents that would have gotten shipped off to kindergarten if they weren't so bad-tempered? Celery? Does that somehow ring a bell?"

"Ooooh!" Percy hesitated. "Circe's island? You were there?"

Reyna sniffed. "Hylla told me about you, and of course, I saw your grand escape with Annabeth."

"Oh," Percy said again, although he was evidently less enthusiastic. "Did you get whacked with stalks of celery or something?"

"Can you just get to the point?" Reyna irritably asked.

"Can you just tell me what the hell is going on here?" I complained, to which both Reyna and Percy ignored.

"Hermes' multivitamins," Percy matter-of-factly said. "Annabeth said that they were the modern equivalant of this mythical plant called molly? Moly? Holey?" He giggled nervously. "I don't know."

"That explains a lot," Reyna sarcastically said, sitting back with a huff.

"Hey, that's all I know," Percy protested, "because I was changed into a guinea pig too, and up to this day, I still have random bouts of inane craving for hamster food."

Dakota perked up. "Did someone just say _hamster?_"

Bobby's eyes widened in alarm while I frowned. "Is this some sort of new thing?"

"Parry Gripp," Bobby sighed. "You know, he writes really weird songs like 'Space Unicorn' and—"

"_DISCO CHRISTMAS IN HAMSTER LAND!_"

Just saying, Dakota is a really bad singer.

Reyna turned to me, letting the son of Bacchus bawl his song into a very alarmed Percy Jackson's face and asked, "Now, what do you mean by that girl? That she was supposed to be dead?"

"Um..." I self-consciously shifted in my seat.

_"BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE—"_

I fervently shot a glance at poor Percy, who looked like a rat trapped in a cage without anywhere to go.

"Well, you see," I nervously said, "she was this girl who was supposed to be dead."

"Yes, I understand that much," Reyna exasperatedly said, "but do you care to elaborate?"

"—_BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE D__ISCO! HAMSTER LAND!—"_

"She's my sister," I muttered out really quickly, really fast, although it came out like "Shezumzinder".

"What?"

"—_DISCO CHRISTMAS IN HAMSTER LAND, DISCO CHRISTMAS IN HAMSTER LAND! BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE—"_

"She's my sister," I said a little more quietly.

"I give up." Reyna's gaze drifted to pin onto Dakota, who was tottering on the balls of his feet like a druken man (well, he was technically drunk with Kool-Aid) while bellowing at the top of his lungs. It's a wonder no one else on the train could hear him.

"Dakota," Reyna said.

_"—BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE DISCO! HAMSTER LAND!"_

"Dakota!"

___"—MY SUNFLOWER SEEDS FOR THE CHRISTMAS MEAL, AND MISSAL-TOE HANGING ON MY HAMSTER WHEEL__—"_

Reyna stood up, rummaged around her backpack and produced a roll of silver duct tape. "DAKOTA!"

_"BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE DISCO! HAMSTER LAND!_

"YOU'RE NOT A HAMSTER!" Bobby groaned.

"_—THE NEWSPAPER DANCE FLOOR HAS BEEN SET DOWN, THE HEDGEHOG DJ CAME FROM OUT OF TOWN!"_

Percy, by this point, had sunk into a compartment chair, completely white-faced as he looked anywhere but the raving son of Bacchus. Thankfully, his misery was ended a second later by a good and long strip of duct tape.

Two identical boys suddenly popped into the compartment, each wearing identical mischiveous grins reminiscent of the sons of Mercury.

"Food!" one of them grinned, waving something that looked like a frog made out of chocolate in my face.

"Food?" Bobby eagerly asked, and then jumped up. "FOOD!"

The rattle of a cart announced the food's arrival, and instantly, Percy was up with Bobby at the front of the door as a dumpy-looking woman wheeling a metal cart that was full of goodies came by.

I shrugged at Reyna, who was still looking pissed off at the world. "Why not?"

"Stop staring at me," she complained, and then went to join me.


	4. The Triwizard Tournament

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the extremely late update. Stupid fever/flu/whatever-the-hell-this-sickness-is.

This answer wasn't meant to be rude.

The question was, from _Guest _(anon):

_"...well one Question. Will Hazel, Frank, Piper and Leo be here?"_

**Your answer is: **No.

Well, probably no.

_**Note: **Guys, feel free to leave CC or questions. I'll happily take good advice and answer your questions. Unlike Feuding Worlds_, _I'm actually trying to make this story readable. And since I'm not exactly punching out a chapter a day like I did in the early days of the afore story mentioned...well, just bear with me, and I'll take the time to review and revise._

**Disclaimer: **Extensive parts of this chapter was taken from _Chapter Twelve: The Triwizard Tournament_ from _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire._ I have no claim to the book. Otherwise, why would I be wasting my time writing fanfiction on this?

* * *

**Chapter Four**  
_Harry_

"Do they never stop yelling?" I groaned, sinking into my chair as an outburst sounded from the compartment next to us. (Something about hamsters.)

I had never seen the Hogwarts Express this chaotic. Some kids in orange and purple T-shirts were running down the aisle, slamming doors and generally, causing a huge commotion. Heads were poking out of compartments to assess what was wrong.

"Blimey," Ron said, peering out our door as the bad singing continued. "They are on a mad sugar rush. The bloke singing would do well to take a choir lesson."

I nodded my head fervently, wincing a little as a noise that sounded like a dying donkey penetrated the walls.

Hermione glanced up from where she was reading an extremely thick book (which, obviously, wasn't that surprising). She marked her page with her finger and frowned at the compartment across from us. "Well...they're probably the exchange students from America."

"Exchange students from America?" I asked, confused. "Dumbledore allows that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, there are tons of wizards and witches from other countries at Hogwarts! Haven't you ever noticed that?"

"Only you would," Ron muttered.

"If I did," I countered, "would I be asking why there are exchange students from America?"

Hermione shrugged and went back to reading, but did not choose to answer my question.

The meaningless banter continued until we got to Hogwarts, lights blazing out of every window. We got out with Hermione stuffing her morbidly obese book in her already-bursting-at-the-seams bag.

We were immediately caught by the downpour of rain as soon as we climbed out. Hermione shivered. "Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather."

"Who would?" Ron grumbled, ruffling his extremely damp hair.

"Hi, Hagrid!" I waved to the giant silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid boomed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

"Lovely," a girl's voice muttered next to me. One of the "exchange students", a girl with startlingly blue eyes trudged past us, trailing after a guy with green eyes who looked completely dry. I could almost hear Ron glowering at the guy. I could hear the girl's voice as her voice faded from earshot: "Did you really have to be that obvious? Everybody was staring at you..."

We caught an empty carriage, Neville joining us about a minute later. The doors shut with a snap and the horseless carriages creaked. The carriages began splashing their way up to the Hogwarts castle.

* * *

"Blimey," Ron muttered, shaking the rain from his hair. "If that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soaked—_ARGH!_"

His already bad mood wasn't improved by the large water balloon that came whizzing out of nowhere, which exploded on top of Ron's head. He stumbled sideways into me, just in time for another water balloon to drop. It narrowly missed Hermione, who quickly stepped away with a flinch, and broke open at my feet, sending a wave of icy water into my shoes. I let out a startled yelp, backing up so quickly that I almost lost my footing on the slick floor.

Everybody shrieked around us as they started trampling each other to get to the Great Hall. Quite a few people fell down and got flattened under stampedes of feet.

"Holy Jupiter!" A guy with blue eyes seemed to swear as his whole back got damp with a blue water balloon. "Let's go before we contract hypothermia." He weaved his way between the yelling and hyperventilating students, some other people in purple T-shirts maneuvering their way with expertise between the wizards and witches blocking their way to the Great Hall.

"PEEVES!" cried an angry voice. Professor McGonagall, the deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, came dashing out of the Great Hall. She skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione's neck to keep her balance.

"Ouch—sorry, Ms. Granger—"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione wheezed, rubbing at her throat, which happened to have a red imprint of Professor McGonagall's hand curled around it now.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. There were several nasty thuds on the other side. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves—"

Peeves waggled his ghostly tongue and tossed the last of the water balloons in the air, which hit the heads of the students just entering the hall, and then zoomed up the marble staircase while insanely giggling.

"Cracked up, isn't he?" I could hear a boy in an orange T-shirt mutter crossly. "Stupid ghosts..."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Nico..."

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Ron, and Hermione, and I slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair away from his face.

As usual, the Great Hall looked amazing, especially since it was decorated for the start-of-the-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. We walked past the Slytherins (who jeered at us, not that it was much of a surprise), the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

Hermione nudged me as she pointed to the visitors. They were all sopping wet, including the boy with green eyes, and the orange-clad ones were staying a respectable distance away from the kids with the purple T-shirts. None of them were wearing their robes. Both groups were lurking near the right end of the wall.

The girl (clad in a silver jacket, blue pants, and combat boots) who had snapped at the guy earlier still seemed to be arguing with him. Another girl with curly blond hair that was plastered around her face like a wet golden halo was talking quietly with a guy with shaggy black hair, who tilted his head towards the other group. All the other people in orange seemed to be hanging around, occasionally laughing as they conversed absently with each other.

Meanwhile, the people in the purple shirts were all murmuring quietly to each other. I picked out a guy with thin blond hair and an angular face, holding a stuffed bear. For some reason, it gave me an sense of foreboding. There was a girl with long black hair tied back into a braid. A boy with short blond hair was trying to shush another curly-haired boy with extremely red lips. Eventually, he gave up and placed a hand against the other boy's arm.

Hermione gaped as the curly-haired person spasmed for a moment, and when the blond boy took away his hand, you could see crackling golden tendrils of lightning pull away with him for a moment. The curly-haired boy limply shuddered, but was quieted.

My jaw could have touched the Gryffindor table.

"Did you just _see_ that?" Hermione squeaked, clutching Ron's arm. "That was...terrifying!"

I never got the chance to answer, because Ron, having obviously not paid a second's worth of attention to the lightning scene, moaned besides me, "Oh, hurry up...I could eat a hippogriff!"

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If we were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school—all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what I recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty and patched wizard's hat.

The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

_"A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began.  
Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach.  
By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition.  
While still alive they did divide  
Their favorties from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gon?  
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!  
Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!"_

All the while, the visitors hadn't stopped their little conversations, and none of the teachers seemed to be telling them off. Dumbledore was smiling amiably at the Hat's song. Even Snape ignored them completely as he devoted his attention towards the Sorting Hat.

The Great Hall rang with applause while the Sorting Hat finished its song.

"It was different from when we got Sorted," I noticed.

"Sings a different one every year," Ron replied. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool. I noticed the blonde girl with the orange people take a sudden interest in the guy.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him. I caught a glimpse of Cho, the Ravenclaw Seeker, cheering Stewart Ackerley as he sat down. For a fleeting second, I had a strange desire to join the Ravenclaw table too.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; I could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. I wondered whether Baddock knew that Slytherin House had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

I must say, the Sorting seemed to take longer than usual. Probably because my stomach was moaning for food, for I felt like an empty trunk.

"Oh, hurry up," Ron moaned, clutching his stomach and hungrily staring at the golden plates, obviously feeling the same hunger pangs as I was.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," chided the Nearly Headless Nick.

Ron glowered at the pearly white ghost. "Yeah, because ghosts can't eat!"

Once all the first years were sorted, McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

But nothing happened to the dishes. Murmurs of indignation rippled throughout the Great Hall. Dumbledore stood up. "This year," his voice boomed, "we have some very special guests."

All heads immediately turned to the visitors, who didn't seem to notice all the attention suddenly fixated on them. They simply carried on peacefully with their conversation. One would think that when everyone stopped talking, they would go with the flow, but apparently, this was not the case.

Dumbledore loudly cleared his throat, and all of them turned his way. One of them, the guy with green eyes said really intelligently: "Oh. Hi, what's up?"

The blonde girl kicked him in the shins. He stared at her, not seeming to notice what she did. "Yes?"

The girl rolled her eyes and stepped back, and seemed to mutter something under her breath.

"They have come all the way from the United States of America," Dumbledore continued, "because a very special event is about to happen this year. But more on that after our feast! Let us welcome our newest arrivals!"

There was a smattering of applause as everybody but the Sltyherins uneasily clapped for a while.

"Where will they be staying?" Malfoy called out rather snidely. "They won't be Sorted, will they?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he waved his wand. Tables materialized in front of both groups. "No, they will not be Sorted. We have prepared...special dormitories for both groups."

There was an outbreak of confused yelling as the visitors looked unperturbed, like they knew this was coming. Whatever the case, I wondered how they were so special that Hogwarts would bother to make two new dormitories for groups that couldn't have more than a dozen people in each.

"But enough of the small talk!" Dumbledore announced, sitting down. "Tuck in!"

"Hear, hear!" said Ron and I loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before our eyes.

Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Ron, Hermione, and I loaded our own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," Nearly Headless Nick breezily mentioned. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" I asked, through a sizable chunk of steak. (Hermione swatted me and reprimanded, "Don't talk with your mouth full!")

"Ron's doing it," I pointed out.

"You're not Ron," Hermione countered.

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast—well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council—the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance—but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," Ron said darkly.

"So what did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh the usual," Nearly Headless Nick replied, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits—"

That wasn't the right thing to say.

_Clang._

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.

"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning...see to the fires and so on...I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get paid?" she managed to get out. "They get holidays, don't they? And—and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want 'sick leave and pensions'!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, spraying me with Yorkshire pudding. "Oops—sorry, 'Arry—"

He gave a huge swallow. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

I chuckled and kept on digging into my steak.

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor." And she refused to eat another bite.

Meanwhile, the visitors were having their own problems. All the purple-clad ones were eating like it was all fine, but the ones in orange were staring at their food like to take a single bite was a huge sin.

One of them raised her hand. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her from where he was neatly tucking into some chicken. "Yes, Miss Chase?"

"_Um_," the blonde girl said nervously, "back at our place, we have this 'custom'...we sacrifice a portion of our food to our...uh, parent."

"One parent?" Ron whispered in indignation. "_Sacrifice your food?_"

The ones in purple stared at them like they were crazy. Dumbledore, on the other hand, didn't blink an eye as a large bronze brazier appeared in front of the kids. All of them stood up with their plates and lined up in a single file line. The Great Hall was so quiet that you could hear each item of food drop into the fire and burn.

"Poseidon." The guy with green eyes approached the fire, his head bowed, and tossed in a fat cluster of grapes.

Everybody followed suit, each of them saying a different name. They were "sacrificing", I noticed, the best part of their food. The warmest, most buttery roll here, the juiciest and most flavorful slice of roast beef there.

"Athena."

"Dionysus."

"Hermes," two identical boys said in unison.

"Zeus...uh, and Artemis."

"Hephaestus."

"Apollo."

"Aphrodite."

"Hades."

"Demeter."

"Ares."

Ron was gaping at them like each and every single one of them had commited a huge sin and offense. Hermione, meanwhile, hadn't taken any notice of what the people did, and was still muttering to herself darkly when the visitors sat down again and began eating like nothing happened. A guy who had curly black hair from the purple kids frowned at his goblet and mumbled something that sounded like, "More Kool-Aid!" I didn't have the slightest idea on what he was talking about or on to.

Dumbledore cleared his throat after the feast, which was continued in total silence with barely anybody eating anything else.

As the second part of the feast drew to a close, Dumbledore rose and clapped his hands for attention.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" Hermione muttered peevishly), "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-Yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

I saw the two people who said "Hermes" rub their hands until the boy with shaggy black hair seemed to stomp on their feet.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched as he eyed the two boys. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" I gasped. I looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

But at that exact moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

Somebody from the purple group mumbled, "Oh, Jupiter..."

"Why do they praise the planets?" Ron muttered.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any I had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye—and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The whole Great Hall nervously fidgeted, and I noticed that quite a few of the visitors' hands were creeping towards their pockets.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students. A pretty girl from the orange group flinched violently as the eye rested on her for a moment.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, along with a few uncertain visitors, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" I muttered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," Ron said in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it.

As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and I saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're _JOKING!_" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Somebody guffawed, a big burly guy from the purple clad group. He didn't notice that one of his own compatriots was kicking him, and he continued to chuckle.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er—but maybe this is not the time...no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Excellent; sounds fun!" the guy with shaggy black hair from the orange group eagerly and rudely interrupted. "I can swing by to visit my father!"

The two people that were besides him, the girl in silver camouflage and the boy with green eyes, both smacked him around the head.

"Shut up," the girl snapped.

"Right. I'll shut up—ow! What was that for?" He glowered at the other person to his right.

The three of them burst out bickering.

All their other group members looked like they wanted to die from embarrassment.

"This year," Dumbledore continued, his eyes flitting to both groups, "we will also be having some...ah, interesting Muggles, if I may say, join us in the Triwizard Tournament, so there will be five champions this year.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the five champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This only applies to each of the three participating schools. Each of the contenders from the two camps in America, however, are free to choose whether or not they want to do it."

He raised his voice at the loud objections coming from Hogwarts. "However, this has been set because Chiron and Lupa—er, excuse me, the directors of the camps have assured us that each of these campers are...ahem, capable of handling themselves in case they run into a difficult situation."

"Difficult situation?" the guy with green eyes indignantly spluttered. Dumbledore waved his comment aside. "Well, now! I believe that I have spoken enough for tonight! Off to bed, all of you, tut tut! If the visitors would come to me for a moment, please."

Everybody began to file out of the Great Hall, murmuring amongst themselves, while the visitors stood by and walked to Dumbledore, who started talking to them in a low undertone.

"Who do you reckon they are?" I asked Hermione as we started walking to the Gryffindor dorm.

Hermione frowned. "Well, they were using the names of the Greek and Roman Muggle gods...I don't know what's up with that."

Something about them made me feel uneasy, like we weren't going to survive a week with the supposed "visitors" at Hogwarts. I was sure that complete pandemonium would break out once the Triwizard Tournament officially began.


	5. Bleached Bones

**Author's Note:** Yes, I finally updated, and a day earlier than I planned, at that. Know that I will update, no matter what. DON'T LOSE HOPE, MY READERS!

Can you guess who's mentioned in this chapter but won't make an appearance? First person to do so will get a virtual cookie! ...Well, if that's enticing, you know.

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**Note:** _Guys, feel free to leave CC or questions. I'll happily take good advice and answer your questions. Unlike Feuding Worlds_, _I'm actually trying to make this story readable. And since I'm not exactly punching out a chapter a day like I did in the early days of the afore story mentioned...well, just bear with me, and I'll take the time to review and revise._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own...blah blah blah...no one cares...if I were Rick Riordan (for god's sake, I'm a girl) or J. K. Rowling, I wouldn't be writing on here, would I?

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**Chapter Five**  
_Percy_

"So," the old man whom I now know as "Dumbledore" said, "Both of your dormitories are on the twelfth floor."

There were a few muffled coughs and a spurt of laughter, and I had to chuckle at the irony of it.

"Well..." Dumbledore commented, his blue eyes twinkling merrily, "your parents insisted. You will know where the room is when you get there...there are certain signs that indicate where the common room will be."

Dumbledore then turned to me and handed me this gigantic bronze key that was easily the size of one of my hands and a half.

Nico frowned at it. "It's rather _big,_ isn't it?"

"Don't worry; it's as light as a feather!" he assured me, seeing the expression on my very-doubtful face.

I hesitantly took it, and it actually _was_ as light as air. Go figure.

"I believe that the keyhole is somewhere around the _wall_," he continued, emphasizing the word "wall". He turned to Jason Grace. "As for your little group...Jason, you know what to do." His gaze rested on the boy with blond hair we met on the train compartment, the guy who was Thalia's brother, and he blinked as Dumbledore pressed a tiny acorn into his hand.

Jason stared at it for a moment, slipped it into his pocket, and waved his hand. I caught a glimpse of a strange mark on his forearm, the words saying: _SPQR_ with an eagle behind it. There were twelve parallel lines underneath it, each stripe a vertical line. It looked like it was burned on, and I inadverantly flinched.

"Well?" Reyna irritably prompted. "Lead on, then." Jason glanced behind his back, as if to make sure that everyone was with him, and then he started climbing the marble staircase, his group scurrying after him. Their footsteps faded from hearing range. Nico stared at Jason, and then threw a nervous look at Thalia, who didn't notice what he did. She was still muttering something under her breath, not paying the least bit attention to what was happening.

"Well, off the bed, all of you!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "You have a long day ahead of you, so it's better to get as much sleep as you can! Tut tut!"

I nodded and headed up the marble staircase with the other head counselors following me.

Hogwarts is a weird school. We got lost more then ten times, with all those rotating staircases, exploding doors, doors that were actually walls but pretended to be doors, more exploding donkeys, cabbages, doors that wouldn't let you through if you didn't scream loud enough (Clarisse took care of that. She would wave something disgusting in front of Drew's face, and...problem solved) and invisible walls. I had smashed my nose against so many of those that if I didn't have my invulnerbility, it would have been quite like a squashed tomato.

"Here," I gasped, rubbing my face after I had walked into an exploding donkey. "I think it's here. Where's this wall? It's the twelfth floor."

"Maybe it's an invisible wall," Annabeth pointed out helpfully.

Thalia shook her head. "No wall. I think I can see that much." She pointed to a suit of armor. "There's something by that thing, though."

I followed her finger and found myself staring at a rusty steel sword. Someone coughed, and Thalia shot an irritable look at Travis, who smiled innocently.

"Don't see anything but a dull and flat blade," I commented.

Thalia huffed in exasperation. "Give me the key, Jackson." Since I had no idea what to do and it wasn't a good idea to anger her when she was already cranky at ten o'clock in the night, I tossed her the key. She deftly caught it and jammed it in what seemed to be thin air. She seemed to shatter an invisible boundary as she turned the key about an eleventh of the way through a levitating keyhole. "Well, can't turn it any further than that. Maybe each one of us has to turn it...each one of the counselors?"

"This is inconvinient," I heard Annabeth mutter, "What if we're running away from a monster and need to go into the common room?"

I ignored her and took the key from Thalia and twisted. Sure enough, the key refused to go any further when I turned it clockwise a bit more. "Cool security system!" I cheered, and then I caught Annabeth throwing me a look.

We each took a twist at the key and eventually, a polished mahogany door shivered into existence and smoothly swung open.

Annabeth took one peek in and I thought that she would bring half the castle running. "Oh, my...this place is...the architectural beauty...oh, my gods..." She ran into the dormitory without another word, and the rest of us trotted in after her.

The daughter of Athena had a right to be awestruck; the place was indeed spectacular. The main common room itself, which was a circle, was enough to get everybody gaping, even Clarisse. There was twelve sections divided in the center of the circular common room, each section like a pie wedge, and a large circle in the middle that read, _Hades._ Each section's floor had something pertaining to the god or goddess it represented, and twelve staircases leading off from each.

Nobody could see Annabeth anywhere, but it was a sure bet that she ran up the section that was gray-ish silver and had an olive tree and owl as its emblem.

"This...place...is...totally...SWEET!" Travis screamed. He and his brother raced up the white section with winged shoes and a caduceus without a word to anyone else, which must have meant they were both extremely excited. I could hear Connor yell, "So much stuff...we could last five years with these things!"

I made a mental note to avoid the Stolls for the remainder of our stay at Hogwarts.

A couple minutes later, everybody was settling into their own quarters. When I climbed up the Poseidon part, I came into a room that looked like it was underwater, except that the liquid seemed to be kept back by some invisible force. But, it was literally _underwater_. I could feel the coolness of the silky liquid on my arm, and there were sea creatures swimming around happily, some of which I didn't even recognize.

"Wow," a voice observed. Nico stood at the edge of the stairs, dabbing at the water-air. "Sorry if I intruded on your personal space..."

"Nah, it's okay," I said. "Come in!"

Nico shrugged. "I can't, unless I want to drown. This place is completely made out of water." He cupped his hand and scooped some of the liquid, which seemed to be held back by some force, and it spilled through his fingers.

I began to look for something that would drain all the water, probably, maybe a switch, but I came up with nothing and gave up.

"You like this place, don't you?" Nico laughed. "I bet that Thalia's having a heart attack in hers. She has acrophobia, right?"

"Acro-what?"

"Never mind," Nico said. "I took a peek at the Zeus room. It looks like you are floating in the sky...ha!" His peal of laughter rang throughout the whole room. "That was an understatement. It's feels _and_ looks like you're in the sky. There's even a part of the room in where there is something a lightning storm going on, twenty-four-seven. Don't know what that guy Dumbly-dor was thinking when he made this place, but oh, well...I doubt that Thals is going to sleep tonight!" He smiled dreamily, probably imagining Thalia's expression, and then stood straighter. "Ah, well...this place is Erebus. It's totally awesome!"

"Erebus isn't awesome," I said, shivering as I recalled my journeys to the Underworld.

Nico frowned as he considered the validity of my statement. "Yeah, sure...well, I like Erebus. And the Fields of Asphodel. Like, I actually met my other sister—" He froze, carefully looking at my expression.

He gulped as my mouth dropped open. "Did you just say...'other sister'?"

Nico bit his lip. "Uh, no, I didn't. You're hearing things."

"Two things," I mildly said, "One, I thought that you swore that you would not start sounding like Thalia, and two, I saw your expression. You just revealed something important, didn't you?"

"Look," Nico said, panicking a little bit. "There are things going on here that are more powerful then Olympus itself. I'll just say that purple is the color of royalty, the Roman emperors. I can't tell you what's happening, and you'll find out in due time, anyways. I promise."

He was out before I could say anything, but a nagging thought at the back of my mind kept on pestering me. Purple, the color of royalty, the color of the Roman emperors. Jason and his friends were wearing purple T-shirts. They talked in _Roman_ terms. And, I just remembered from a lecture from my girlfriend, the gods were Roman almost as long as they were Greek. I stared at a bunk at the corner of the room and went to lay on it. I didn't know exactly what was going on, I had a feeling when all the puzzle pieces finally clicked together into a large picture, I wouldn't like what I saw.

* * *

I woke up at seven thirty to a loud thump downstairs. I jumped out of bed and rushed into a bathroom that I hadn't noticed was there the night before. I quickly got changed, took a shower, brushed me teeth, et cetera, et cetera.

I raced downstairs to see a pile of bones on top of a freaked-out Drew, who was screaming at the top of her lungs: "THIS WILL ABSOLUTELY _RUIN_ MY NEW HAIRSTYLE! YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! GET THE...THE...VULGAR AND NASTY THINGS OFF OF ME, DI ANGELO! GET THEM OFF! NOW! _NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW_!" Drew screamed again, absolutely terrified of the inanimate, bleached white bones.

The scene wasn't helping my stomach. There was a strangled groan from the Zeus part of the dormitory as Thalia staggered down the staircase, purple bags evident under her eyes. It was immediately clear that she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night. "Ne-never...g-going...in th-the-there...a-a-ag-again...t-too..." She dropped from sheer terror and exhaustion.

"Oh, gods," I muttered. "You're sleeping in the Artemis part tonight, or I'll skewer you, I swear..."

Thalia groggily sat up and shook her head. "Ugh...stupid...heights...eagles...lightning...griffins...acorns..."

Annabeth walked down from the Athena hall and stopped short when she saw the scene in front of her: her best friend collapsing onto a couch and falling asleep right then and there, Drew still in hysterics with Nico and Clarisse laughing at her.

"Percy," she said, her voice quiet. "What is happening here?"

I shrugged. "Don't look at me. Oh, uh, Thalia didn't get any sleep last night because of her...uh, problem with heights—"

"What?" Annabeth's expression was priceless as she gaped at Thalia, who rolled onto the floor and snapped awake.

"Never mind," I quickly said. "And Nico thought that it would be fun to bury Drew in bleached bones that have got to be at least a century old."

"It was funny!" Nico announced.

"_NICO DI ANGELO! WHEN I AM OVER WITH YOU...!"_

"What're you going to do?" Nico gleefully taunted. "Spray perfume on me? Paint my nails?"

"I will...I will..."Drew spluttered from the ground and her eyes lit up in triumph. _"I WILL SET YOU UP WITH CLARISSE!"_

Nico blanched.

Clarisse balked and then turned beet red. "What?!"

Drew screamed again as the furious daughter of Ares snarled at her.

To my surprise, Annabeth just crashed on a couch and began fiddling with a blueprint without trying to loosen up the situation. "Okay, then. We'll leave it at that...breakfast's at eight, right?"

"Sure," Thalia moaned, "just get me out of here!"

There was a period of awkward silence only piercingly broken by Drew's terrified and defiant shrieks.

"Well...where's the door?"

Annabeth pointed to the door, and Thalia all but fell out. There was a loud thump, and I plugged my ears before the screaming that was sure to happen started.

_"WHY DOES THIS DAMN WORLD HATE ME SO MUCH?!"_


	6. Author's Note: DISCONTINUED

Hello, my readers.

I have officially decided to discontinue the story. I'm happy that all of you have stuck through with these five short chapters, but I simply don't have the drive to finish this. It's just too much. Besides, I've kinda been losing interest in PJO and HP for quite a while now, and my writing in these fandoms simply won't reflect my best writing I have to offer, and I don't want to bore you all with meaningless...drudgery.

I am contacting one of my most awesome, reliable, consistent PJO reviewers right now. I have talked about this with her before. If she agrees to adopt, I will notify this of you. Again, thank you for your cooperation. I really appreciated our short time together. Thank you for all your favorites, your follows, your reviews. They really made me happy if I was having a bad day.

Again, I will notify you guys of any changes in this case. Have a great final few months of school! :)

_bluewindranger_


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